


A Way a Ways Away (I never finished this and I don't intend to)

by velcome



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Alien Frank Iero, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Aliens, Alternate Universe - Military, Alternate Universe - No My Chemical Romance, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Army, Awkward Mikey Way, Band Fic, Brotherhood, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Character Death, Death, Emo, Everyone Is Gay, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Guilt, I Just Really Love Pete Wentz, IN SPACE!, Long, M/M, Military, Military Science Fiction, Military Training, Multi, My Chemical Romance References, Near Death, Outer Space, Pete Wentz Is Sad, Prisoner of War, Protective Older Brothers, Science Fiction, Shy Mikey Way, Slow Burn, Space Battles, Space Marines, Space Stations, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2020-12-20 16:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velcome/pseuds/velcome
Summary: Mikey is a space man





	1. Decisions Were Made

**Author's Note:**

> Comment you cowards.

If you had asked Michael Way what he saw himself doing with his life four years ago, he probably wouldn’t have known how to respond. A telemarketer, maybe, an accountant if he was lucky. Something that would certainly make you collapse of boredom just thinking about it. A temp, a data entry clerk, a dishwasher. He would’ve gone with the kind of job that would land him with just enough retirement money to go to the Bahamas once and die a boring old man. You’d look at the kid in front of you and wonder who stole this poor boy’s ambition. You’d think him pathetic, or lazy, or both. But, the thing is, that was about as good as things got in his mind. If you hadn’t yet guessed, Mikey never really was one for adrenaline-rush and adventure. He’d never even left Earth, not in all his life, and he never planned to. His parents and his brother had been all over, through Martian sandstorms, lunar craters, Neptunian diamond rain, even all the way to Epsilon Eridani b once. He, however, always insisted on staying home, where he was safe. While his family was traversing the galaxy, he was stuck in the same old peeling clapboard house with Grandma Korra’s horrid cooking. He was a boring nobody in a boring town on a boring planet, not worth anyone’s time or attention. It wasn’t something he was discontented with, it was just a fact. The same monotony that followed him around day after day wasn’t in a position to change. If you asked him where he thought his life was going, he’d tell you it was going the exact same place it was always going, namely, nowhere.

If you had then informed that same Mikey from so long ago that in mere months he would be shuttling his way to the nearest Metacosmic Base and enrolling in the Intergalactic Militia, he would have thought of you one of the more amusing strangers he’d met. I can’t go as far as to say that he would laugh, but he’d for sure let out a pretty hearty exhale through his nostrils. Then, he’d probably shake his head and ask you what kind of cheap sci-fi production you thought he was starring in. He’d never seen the appeal in all the interstellar vacation stuff. Surely his time was better spent here than in some fantasy space land. It always seemed to him a way for people to literally put light years between themselves and their responsibilities. Not to mention a deathwish. And yes, he knew that in proportion to the amount of people who took these trips, those who never returned were of the vast minority, but that did nothing to cease the pounding of his heart every time his brother hugged him goodbye, or the voice inside his head telling him that _ this _ time, surely, he’d never see his family again. Needless to say, he was adament in keeping his travels terrestrial.

And yet here he is, Mikey Way, a half year aged and a military man. He would’ve never thought it a possibility. Indeed, he often wondered what mysterious force prompted him to do something so out of his realm of possibilities that one fateful night. If it was any other day that Mom and Dad had left for the Grand Saturn Tour, he’s sure he wouldn’t have done it. Gerard had tried to talk him out of it, because he knew his brother well enough to know that the biggest risk he’d ever taken was buying Sour Cream and Onion dip instead of Original, but Mikey was dead-set on this more than he’d been about anything before. It seemed that a switch had flipped in him from _ awkward lanky hermit _ to _ awkward lanky stubborn badass. _Gerard, for one, was horrified. He did his absolute best to prevent him from doing something he’d regret forever. Mikey, naturally, ignored him and became even more insistent on joining the army. There was nothing his brother could do about it. There was nothing anyone could’ve done. Mikey went to space, like he said he would. And immediately regretted it, just like everyone else in the galaxy knew he would.

The journey to the base was like a drunken haze, only he was sober. He hardly remembered any of it, which one one hand he was thankful for, as he wasn’t too keen to recall bulleting through emptiness at the speed of sound for five hours straight. On the other hand, though, it made it that much more disorienting to wake up thousands of miles from home with limited recollection of how he got there. He was terrified of everything that first day. It was the first time he had ever left his hometown in his 18 years of existence, and he didn’t quite ease himself into the process. Which is to say, he basically cannonballed straight into the deep end with his eyes closed, praying for dear life that he knew how to swim. The only thing that got himself out of his dorm in the morning was the thought of how the boredom of staying locked up in there all day would ultimately lead to a crisis in which he’d likely end up on the floor dry-heaving. Leaving the relative safety of that strange room won him a silver medal in the lifelong game of Scariest Things He’d Ever Done, second only to enrolling in the military in the first place. He felt like such a stranger here. He was a single prawn in a pool of blue whales. It was quite unsettling being in a new place, he realized. He hated the feeling. Every stranger’s face he passed seemed to be scowling at him, letting him know just how sure they were of his failure. He often got lost in all the dark, twisting tunnels that connected everything into some sort of labyrinth. He woke up from terrible nightmares multiple times throughout the night, his brain buzzing with adrenaline and anxiety. He almost went back home so many times throughout the week, but he reasoned to himself that a slow and painful death in a war against raging, tentacled aliens was all in all better than having to barrel through the vacuum of space again, this time in his right mind, to get home.

And thus, he adapted to his terrifying position. He had no other choice. And wouldn’t you know it, the horror of the situation occupied less and less space in his mind each new day. He became accustomed to a routine that eventually comforted him in its persistent sameness. Breakfast in the barracks. Three classes. Lunch in the barracks. Four classes. Dinner in the barracks. Free time in the Lobby. Lights Out. He grew strong and confident. He was completely independent here. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted, and no one cared. He worked hard. He got good. Against all odds, he started to _ like _ it there. The shock had worn off, and he almost understood why people loved traveling to new places. He felt direction in his life for the very first time. This is what he was going to do. This is what his life would be. He had found it finally, and in the last place he’d think to look, too. He rose in ranks, absorbing everything there was to know about battle strategy, disarming an enemy, and the culture and customs of those they shared the galaxy with. He had always been a plain, scrawny boy, but here his arms and legs swelled with muscle. His features sharpened. He no longer avoided eye contact. He could march through those halls feeling like he had accomplished something, like he had a role to play in history. Like he had the potential to be a hero.

“James!” He heard someone call behind him. He turned; it was Awsten.

Awsten was his closest friend at the base. Yes, you heard correctly, Mikey had made a friend. Not just any friend, either. A _ best _ friend. First best friend he’d ever had, and therefore the best best friend of his life. 

When he had first met Awsten a few days after he arrived at the base, he figured he was a different species. Literally. They had a few Gallians training there, two or three Kiershas, so it wasn’t _ that _ big of a stretch. I mean, his hair was neon green for God’s sake. He asked Awsten what planet he was from, and he burst into laughter. “ _ Earth, _ ” he said, assuring him that he was in fact human, as silly as it sounds. Mikey’s face went red hot when he was informed of this, which just made Awsten laugh more. Mikey was mortified. The first person who had shown even the slightest interest in talking to him, and he had to go and screw it up. He figured that after that, Awsten Knight the Human Being would want nothing to do with him. He’d tell everyone just how much of a laughingstock the new guy was, and no one would ever try to talk to him again. It was with resigned acceptance that he came to this conclusion. To his shock and delight, however, it turned out to be the complete opposite. Awsten approached him the very next day, not to punch him or curse him out, but to complain about how Sergeant Daniel’s drills made him want to shove a lit fuse up a ‘special place.’ He kept coming back to him every day after that, and Mikey looked forward to it every time. Awsten really seemed to like him for some odd reason. He helped him get on his feet in the new environment, teaching him the ins and outs of the base. He even helped him reinvent himself. Mikey had talked to him shortly after they met about how useless and invisible he felt on Earth. Awsten told him that this was the perfect opportunity to turn over a new leaf. No one knew him here; he could leave behind lame, futureless Earth Mikey and become someone completely different. Someone people looked up to, the kind of guy that _ im_pressed his family instead of _ de_pressing them. That was how James came about. Awsten asked him what they called him at home, assuming it was something other than Private Way.

“Mikey,” he answered.

“Okay, good. Mikey, listen to me; you are no longer Mikey. You got that?” Not Mikey shook his head at his new friend. Who was he then? Al Capone? Aretha Franklin? Mindy Kaling? He’d like to be Mindy Kaling.

“What’s your middle name?”

“James.”

“Cool. From here on out, you are James,” Awsten declared.

“But why?”

Awsten sighed. “ Honestly man, on Earth you were, and I mean this in the best way possible, a huge wimp. You had no friends. No job. No life. Mikey was a loser. But here, you’re not a loser. You’re not Mikey. You’re… Jamessssss,” he said the new name like he was in a bad cop show, and he had just run into his arch-enemy.

“Uh,” Was all Mikey said. Awsten grabbed his shoulders. Looked him straight in the eyes.

“Listen to me. James is a badass. James is a winner. James stabs aliens in his sleep. Got that? James is gonna leave every other wannabee Space Cadet here in the dust.”

Mikey gave it some thought. He didn’t think ‘James’ really fit him. He had always been Mikey to everyone. It felt like a betrayal to change that. But, Awsten was also right. The minute he got on that rocket, he wasn’t the same person as he was before. In just a few days, he felt completely different. Maybe it was time for a change. “Cool,” he said finally, “James it is.” Awsten high-fived him victoriously. “Maybe you could reinvent yourself, too,” he suggested, “What’s your middle name?”

The intercom buzzed above them in the Lobby, signaling them to head back to their dorms. Awsten got up to leave. “You don’t wanna know,” was all he said.

James became somewhat of a legend in his base. He never did completely adjust to the new name, he still thought of himself as Mikey, but his peers seemed to catch on fairly quickly. Things began to change for him as the days suddenly turned to weeks. His reinvention was noticed. He would overhear people whispering about him, and not in the same way people used to. He intimidated them. He was big and strong, but quiet and reserved, which meant that people thought he was an enigmatic warrior, hardened by the harsh world around him. This was probably as far away from reality as one could get, but he didn’t bother to correct anyone. If people mistook his shyness for regal mystery, than so be it. He wouldn’t stop them.

He got the idea over time that people were even afraid of him, as no one seemed to ever make full eye contact or talk to him if they could help it. Well, no one but Awsten. Awsten was potentially the best thing about this whole experience. It’s a great feeling to find a person who truly understands you and accepts you for everything you are. Mikey found that in Awsten. It was one of the greatest joys he had ever felt. He talked to him all the time, about everything. He let his guard down and just existed for a while when it was the two of them. If he had shown this side of himself to everyone, their opinions would surely shift of him. He knew that Awsten was rare in his unwavering support and acceptance. If he acted the way he did around his best friend, people would come to realize that their stern, quiet hero was just a small-town dork with no idea what he was doing, and he wasn’t eager to let that happen. His reputation was the only thing he had going for him. He was good enough in class, but he sincerely doubted any of his skills would translate into a real-life situation. Sure, he could cauterize an Eirian within seconds in theory, but in practice, it’d be a whole different ball game. The truth was, as much as he enjoyed it there, Mikey had serious doubts of his ability as a soldier. A lot of the recruits here had military backgrounds, a dad or aunt or great grandma Sue who came before them. Mikey had arrived here on a whim. His enrollment was nothing more than pure impulse. He had no clue what he was doing. Everything was new; everything. Awsten had to teach him what _ green beans _ were. Granted, that had less to do with his fighting experience than it did with his parents eccentricity, but the point still stands that Mikey was a stranger in a strange land faking his way through the program.

“I still don’t think I really belong here,” he confessed to Awsten one night, “I wasn’t meant to be a fighter. I’m about as threatening as an uncooked noodle.”

Awsten grinned. “As true as that may be, I’m gonna have to tell you exactly what my great-grandma Laricca told me when I wanted to quit flag football back in the seventh grade; Stop being a limpdick and do something about it.”

“Oh, so it runs in the family.”

“If by _ it _ you mean wisdom, then yes, absolutely.”

“I’m serious, Awsten.”

“I know you are. I am too. You doubt yourself all the time, and it’s unwarranted. You’re doing fine. You’ve got skills, and if you stopped pitying yourself for a few seconds you’d be able to hone them. Trust me, the only thing you’re lacking is the capacity to shut your mouth.”

“A bit harsh.”

“Harsh is what you need. This is getting exhausting. If you really want proof of your abilities, go on the Voluntary Mission Explexa. Plenty of first years will be there with you, and you’ll get a good idea of what you’ll face on your first deployment. If you do terrible and almost get killed, you can leave, no sweat. If not, hallelujah, you can do it.”

“That sounds like a bad idea.”

“If my great-grandma were here, you’d be shoved into the engine of the nearest vacuum jet by now.”

“You can’t make me go on that mission.”

“Well guess what, I am.”

“I refuse.”

“Fine, then I won’t sit with you at lunch anymore.” Mikey bit back his indignant response. Maybe it was childish, but he did really like eating lunch with Awsten. It’d be a real shame to have to give that up.

“...Fine. Whatever.”

“Hah, yes!” Awsten exclaims, “Trust me, you won’t regret this.”

Mikey did indeed go on the mission. It was simple enough, mostly just sample collecting and exploring the Backlands of Fremmed, a plain, sunny planet mostly used for botanical studies. There was, however, a significant invasion of Yllian Bulls some idiot decided to bring over, probably from Rhedsau, the only planet within a few light years distance. This meant that the regular team displaced here was no longer guaranteed safety while collecting their data, and thus the militia was involved.

It only took about thirty minutes for Mikey to regret every single decision he had ever made leading up to this. Everyone had been separated into groups of two and sent to a specific area on the planet, looking for some species of purple flower with a pretentious latin name. He had fully intended to complete his job as was expected of him, but the guy he got paired with creeped him out, and it ended up being more Get Away From Ryan than Pick Flowers For Science. No matter how quietly he snuck or how fast he ran, the dude always seemed to find him again.

He had just managed to lose sight of Private Ross when he popped out from behind a tree, nearly putting Mikey into cardiac arrest.

“Man, there you are,” he said for about the third time, “Almost lost you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess I got distracted again,” Mikey mumbled, squirming at the close proximity to Ryan.

“I want a donut,” his partner expressed to no one in particular.

“Yeah, it’s uh, one of those days, I guess, right?” Mikey wanted to scream and run away from this demented man. There was some faraway pain in his eyes that made you think he wanted to kill you. And despite the ridiculous things that came out of his mouth, Mikey got this secluded genius kind of feel for him. Like all those movies with the little white boys that learn calculus in the third grade but are rejected by their peers and live a life of bitter solitude. Or maybe he was just a warlock. Who knows what mystery was hiding in that shag rug on top of his head?

“I’m just so starving,” he continued, “Are you starving?” Mikey, not knowing what to do, just nodded. “We’re so starving,” Ryan concluded.

“Yeah.”

“I need to take a vacation!”

“Well, why don’t you take a vacation then?” Mikey said, shifting away from him, no longer attempting to hide his unease.

“I don’t wanna leave here, though. But I do. Who knows? Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.”

“Okay.”

“I think this is where I belong.”

“Then why the hell do you want to take a vacation?” He didn’t know precisely what about this man was so unnerving, but he knew that this was the most uncomfortable he had felt in a long while.

Ryan shrugged. “Defiance.”

After a lengthy, uncomfortable pause, Ryan started right back up with his strange way of speaking. “You know, you remind me of a few of my friends.”

“Is that so?” This guy could not read a room if his life depended on it.

“Well, I guess that all depends on what you qualify as_ friends _,” he smiled mischievously.

“Oh.”

“If you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

Mikey didn’t think he could stand another minute here. “Okay, uh, what if we split up? We can cover all our ground in half the time and we can just sit here for a while when we’re done.”

“I’m down.”

Mikey let out a sigh of relief. “Okay, then.” He set off to the right, resisting the burning temptation to run far, far away from his partner.

“You were right, I was wrong, like I always am and you always are,” he heard him whisper behind him.

“What was that?”

Ryan smiled. “Oh, nothing. Goodbye.”

“...Bye.”

“On Christmas Eve.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nevermind.”

Mikey felt nauseous. He felt safer all alone in this jungle with bloodthirsty predators than he would at his own grandmother’s house with Ryan.

He looked back after a while to see where said creep had went, and saw that he hadn’t moved at all. Mikey shook his head. Whatever. As long as he remained a consistent fifteen feet away from him, he couldn’t care less what happened to Ryan Ross.

Unfortunately, his solitude seemed a welcome invitation to the bulls. He didn’t notice anything amiss at first, but a suspicious rustle of leaves brought out a wave of goosebumps over his arms.

One moment, he was scanning the ground for something other than wilting green, the next he was knocked off his feet. Sweat beaded on his forehead as if his body had known beforehand what was going to happen, and had planned accordingly. He cried out, but he knew that no one was close enough to hear, not even Ryan, not that he’d trust him to save his life anyways. The various sounds of wildlife drowned everything out. The sun glared in his eyes, so he couldn’t get a good enough look at the creature on top of him. Unfortunately, its smell was still discernible. Did it shit in a pile of rotting meat and then roll in it? Mikey gagged. As the surprise wore off, he realized the terrifying bull creature dangerous enough to be worth calling the armed forces over was much smaller than he initially expected. It was stout, sure, but it fit snugly on top of his chest, no more. It was fuzzy, too, another thing he did not picture from hearing about it. Grime clung to the fur, surely the source of the rancid shit attacking his nose. It breathed like one of those pugs that’s been inbred too many times and has respiratory problems. Thick and raspy, as if its throat were lined with gravel. Certainly not what he had pictured, but intimidating still.

Mikey pushed the thing off him and scrambled away, tripping over his own feet in fear. He crouched behind a bush as it reoriented itself. It had been thrown onto its back, and struggled to get upright with its short legs. It was looking around, presumably trying to find Mikey. He crouched lower, peering through a small part in the leaves. He could see the bull clearer now. It was weird looking at it, because his instincts told him to stay far, far away, but his eyes were showing him a creature that looked almost… cute. It seemed like a little dog a rich British business owner would adopt from a rescue agency to make themselves look good. The curly black fur around its wide eyes would’ve made him melt had he not known what it was capable of. There were dry clumps of fur that stuck up, like it had been spilled on. It reminded Mikey of an episode of one of those shows where people rescue neglected pets and rehome them. Its teeth were wicked sharp though, a harsh reminder that this thing was far from cute. Upon further inspection, the ears and tail were practically hairless and pretty badly scraped up, too. It must’ve been in a nasty fight, and Mikey had a feeling it won.

The confusion in the things eyes grew. It started to growl, a low, guttural sound that would make the bravest of soldiers hesitate. It was running around, sniffing at the ground, scraping at soft dirt. _ Shit, _ Mikey thought, _ the thing’s getting angry. _

Its head shot up and its eyes narrowed in on the very bush Mikey was peering from. His skin crawled. He wondered if the ugly beast could hear his thoughts. He’d never heard of anything like that, but he’d never heard of Yllian Bulls until a few hours ago, either. He didn’t want to make any bets. The next time he looked up, it had gotten closer to him. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. It knew where he was. It was going to eat his liver. Mikey thought it was definitely a liver-eater.

He stayed stone still while the monster hunted him down. He was hoping that the sheer volume of its own stench rendered its sense of smell useless. As long as he didn’t move, it wouldn’t find him, right?

It charged. Mikey screamed again. He reached to his belt. He didn’t think. He couldn’t. He thought he was gonna die at the paws of this tiny alien dog. His very first mission, an entry level threat, and he couldn’t handle it. Think of his funeral. People would be holding back their laughter. _ Michael James Way, beloved brother, son, and not much else. On his very first mission, he was killed by a furball with sharp teeth. He will be dearly missed. _ How humiliating. He scrambled for something to do. He heard an ear-shattering _ BANG! _ He was thrown back. Something warm spattered on his bare forearms. He gasped. He could smell smoke. There was blood on him. The bull was limp. There was a blaster in his hands. His ears were ringing. He had shot the damn thing. His pulse slowed. Adrenaline filled him.

He had put a bullet into the beast. His blaster was still hot. He was wide-eyed at the thought.

He felt powerful. Maybe it was wrong, but that shot made him feel more alive than he could remember feeling. The bull was dead and Mikey was brave. He won. He was scared; terrified, actually. But he shot the thing, square in the neck. He did his job. He did what others couldn’t. If he was one of those researchers, it’d be his body on the ground now. But he wasn’t just anybody. Not anymore. The moment he fired that shot, he was a soldier. He was no longer an imposter. He belonged there, because he could do it all. He could kill. It was thrilling.

James Way, the bull-killing machine. Oh yeah, it was all coming together.


	2. I'm a Big Kid Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tear me to pieces.

That same thrill from the Explexa was what Mikey kept chasing for the next three years. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. From then on, every chance he got, he went on a mission. He fought battles, and he won. He changed bases as he climbed the ranks. Awsten went with him, delighted to have contributed to the breaking of James’ shell.

The base they’d just been transferred to was the biggest upgrade thus far. It was massive, first of all. You could walk for hours and never reach the borders. You couldn’t tell it was a ship from the inside; it looked like a castle, filled with rich architecture, murals, sculptures and long carpeted hallways. A bit impractical actually, Mikey thought. This thing could be blasted to pieces in mere seconds come an invasion. He wasn’t complaining though. It really was gorgeous, even if it was a waste of government money. From the mahogany plated dining room to his own private bedroom, everything was an upgrade from its previous state.

He had a sect, too. Each sect was made up of five people sharing a living space. He was lucky enough to end up with Awsten, thanks to training extensively with him and thus achieving similar ranks, plus three other people he had never met. Jamia, Spencer, and Otto made him nervous at first, being complete strangers he was to spend practically every waking moment among and all, but as time went on, he found himself growing increasingly fond of the little family they all had formed. Well, almost family. It made him a little sad sometimes, to be sitting around the table with them at meals, watching old 1990s sitcoms and laughing at all the painful acting that accompanied them. It reminded him of what he had left on Earth. His sect would always be almost-family, the people he loved and spent all his time with, but with something fundamental left to be desired. As great as everyone was, they could never come close to filling the role of his true relatives. He missed his mom, he missed his dad, he missed his grandma, and most of all, he missed his brother.

To be honest, the last thing on his mind the first few months of his enrollment was his family. He’d always felt separated from them. He was the reclusive black sheep, living in his own head all alone. He didn’t talk to them too much, preferring to avoid all civilization unless forced otherwise. He felt no farther from them in outer space than he did standing right beside them.

He always wanted to leave his home behind. That is, until he actually did. Sometime in the last two years or so, he began to feel intense regret for all of those years alone. He wished he had made more of an effort to talk to his family. They were always there for him, and he never reciprocated it. He was too stuck in his own self-pity to see all the people right in front of them giving him unconditional love. He honestly hardly thought about what leaving really meant when he first did it. His mom was probably fuming to this day about it. They’d sent letters to him, telling him how proud they were, but that was surely only one side of the story. Guilt haunted him. He never answered the letters. There was a small hope in his mind that they’d eventually stop coming. If they could just move on and forget about him, he’d feel better about what he did.

He hoped his little brother would forgive him.

He was really close to Gerard when they were kids; they’d spent every weekend together watching The Empire Strikes Back for the ten billionth time, hitting each other with sticks and calling it a lightsaber battle. They’d draw out their own storylines for the movie, and act those out. Those memories were some of the greatest ones he had. He was able to escape the dreary world they were all dropped into with his favorite person in the world. It wasn’t until sometime after he started high school that they began to drift apart. Mikey shrunk into the shadows. He avoided his brother along with everyone else. It’s not that he didn’t want the company anymore. He felt the need to retreat from humanity, to hide away from the very people he needed most. Gerard was hurt by this, he knew. He wished he could take it all back, but it was about five years too late for that.

Frankly though, he didn't have to to think about Gerard. Training was still brutal, and he got too little sleep as is. The only breaks they were permitted were at meals, thrice a day for twenty minutes each, and an hour between dinner and the quarantine to their dorms to hopefully achieve some semblance of nightly rest. He barely had free time to remember his own name, much less debate the moral standing of a decision he made three years ago. It wasn't practical and it wouldn't change anything. He pushed it out of his mind every instance it came up, which on some days, was dozens of times.

A much more immediate and digestible issue came in the form of his first solo mission, set to leave in two short weeks. He was to man a ship along with a crew of first years to a low risk area to assist them in completing their first assignment. Actually, it was the Voluntary Mission Explexa, the very mission that gave him the courage to go through with boot camp. He held much pride in this invitation, honored to be trusted like this and admittedly a little sentimental about how full circle he had come. It was terribly nerve-wracking to think about, but only within the context of how unbelievably wonderful it was. The date was crawling ever closer, seeming at once light-years from him and right outside the doorway. Preparation had started weeks ago, going over the plan again and again. He wouldn’t know exactly where they were going until 48 hours before they boarded. Interstellar politics moved fast, and unprecedented obstacles were always popping up. If he had been given the assignment any earlier, it was sure to change. It was a necessary poison to swallow. He wouldn’t know what he was in for until it was too late to back out. He had to be 100 percent committed to this, or he couldn’t do it. At least it was guaranteed low-risk for the benefit of the first years. It couldn’t be too complicated. He could do it, he knew. It was just a matter of not getting in his head about it. His job was to protect his crew, and protect them he would.

His team didn’t seem to sympathize with him. Awsten’s exact reaction to his worries was, and I quote, “Get over yourself. We all know you’re Big Balls James, the boy who never fails. You’ll be fine.”

“You’re just bitter because I’m the first one to be assigned a captain.”

“Oy, I’m Big Balls James, and I like to suck my own fingers. I’m a big shot captain now, if you weren’t paying attention to me talking about it for the last three hours. Being a hero is so hard.”

“What kind of accent was that supposed to be?”

“A rich old cunt from Luxembourg.”

“I’m not even remotely from Luxembourg.”

“Ooh, silly old Awsten, doesn’t even know Geography! Doomed as the wimpy sidekick of Big Balls James.”

“If the shoe fits.”

“Fuck you, man.”

“What are you so pissed about? You’ll get your own mission, in time. Just because I was the first drawn out of a hat doesn’t mean you can act like I smothered your sister.”

“Is that a confession?”

“She had it coming.”

“Oy, I’m Big Balls James, and I like to kill people, snapping the arm of a nameless citizen like a toothpick really turns me on.”

“I still don’t see the connection between your accent and any country within 10,000 miles of Europe.”

“You’re flaccid.”

Across the table, Jamia rolled her eyes. “Awsten, stop being a shithead and eat your damn soup. James, none of us care about your mission, especially not when every word out of your mouth is a repetition of a point you’ve already made twice before.”

“You interrupted our banter,” Awsten pouted, turning to Mikey, “She ruined our banter!”

“You’re acting like this is out of the ordinary,” Mikey pointed out.

“If you wanted me to be fair, you shouldn’t have told me I looked like ‘Katy Perry before the therapy’ the first time we met,” she scolded Awsten.

“If you want me to ever speak to you again, you will stop bringing that up.”

“That is not a threat, my good sir, that is an offer.”

“Oy, I’m Big Balls Jamia, I can bench press an entire flock of turkeys.”

“Are you high?”

“On spite.”

“Right.”

“Why do you care?”

“Jesus Christ Awsten, I’m leaving.”

“Because I’m too hot?”

“I don’t want to catch whatever stomach bug you’ve caught.”

“See you never, bitch!” he slurred.

“Make sure he doesn’t kill himself,” she directed Mikey.

“Ugh, why me?”

“Because you need humbling.” Satisfied with getting the last word, she walked out of their dining room.

“Are you capable of going the rest of today without being a brat?” Mikey asked his friend.

“If I can’t I’ll know where to find you in the Hall of Big-Balled Men.”

“Go to class, Awsten.”

“Aye aye, your Majesty.”

********

It was finally time to retrieve his mission description. Mikey had hardly slept the previous night, the few times when he did manage to doze off filled with recurring nightmares of some authority telling him that they had changed their minds, that he wasn’t actually ready for this, and dooming him to the Walk of Shame.

The process was far less dramatic than his dreams had suggested, mostly consisting of standing in various lines and telling people behind glass his name. By the time he got to the right place, he was almost shaking with frustration. He had woken up butt-early just to fuck around for three hours waiting for someone to tell him where to go.He was running on his last nerve at that point. He just wanted to get the assignment and get back to the base before he exploded.

His destination, he had finally found out, was The International Library of Artillery, about a half hour from the base on some dusty old planet nobody wanted to visit. It held data and information about any and all military action run by Earthly denominations, including his branch of the US Intergalactic Militia. It was what you’d expect from any important government building, lavish and over the top but stuffy and starched nonetheless, like art in a museum that you aren’t allowed to touch. He approached a wide desk with a single small, clipped woman sitting behind it. She looked terribly bored, the sight of Mikey lighting up her eyes as if it was the first sign of humanity she’d seen in too long. He understood her boredom looking at the desk. It was completely clear, no pen holders, little trinkets, or even a computer. Just a naked wood slab to stare at day in and day out. This place must have more turnover than a Burger King by a high school.

“Hello! I’m Maggy, whaddya need?” she chirped.

“I’m in the uh, Zhandou Base at Meeraha, I just need a Mission Statement.”

“Got it, got it, what you gotta do is take that flight of stairs,” she gestured to her right, where a carved spiral staircase was located, “Then follow the signs towards what’s labelled the ‘Secretary’s File Room’. If you get lost, follow the signs to what’s labelled, ‘The Lobby’, which is here, and I’ll see what more I can do. This place can get a little tricky to navigate, so don’t hesitate to make your way back down if you need.” She smiled like someone who had forgotten how to smile. “Hope you get a good one,” she added. Mikey forced himself to reciprocate an equally unconvincing grin.

“Thank you, Maggy.”

“Oh, no trouble, sweetie! Good luck on your mission!”

He climbed up the stairs and tried his best to forget that interaction ever happened. She must be one lonely lady. It was like she’d been stranded in the desert and his conversation was a mirage, filling her with false hope. Why she or anyone else would take a job in this place was lost on him.

He thought to himself that whoever built this place must have followed the witnessed trend of crippling loneliness, for it was evident they had far too much time on their hands. The hallways all tangled together like spilled yarn, twisting and overlapping. The signs Maggy had advised him on were few and far between, with vague directions. This was the kind of place no one wanted you to leave. You could get trapped in here for days without so much as a door showing up in the halls, much less a person. It led him to wonder what shape the government was in if this was where they kept their information. He hadn’t paid any mind to any sort of news outlet, terrestrial or otherwise. It suddenly occurred to him that a nuclear war could have broken out down there and he’d be none the wiser. All the people he left behind could be in peril, and he was sitting in a big hunk of metal eating ham soup. It was depressing to think about. He once more forced all thoughts of his relationships back home into the recesses of his mind. He had a job to do.

Thankfully, he was finally able to find his way to the Secretary’s File Room. It was a dingy little space with cream-colored walls and the kind of carpet that every business office in the world was privy to. Behind yet another long wooden desk sat two disheveled folks smoking cigarettes and giggling profusely. Their ash-tray was stuffed full of burnt butts, filling the room with the overwhelming stench of tobacco and making him gag. He closed the door behind him a tad more forceful than really necessary, and the two pals finally noticed his presence. They both jumped at the sight of him, and he had a feeling they hadn’t seen a human being besides each other for a very long time.

With a more direct view of their faces, Mikey was able to discern through the smoke a man and a woman lazily sprawled on desk chairs surrounded by stacks of loose papers. The woman had long, black hair and fingerless gloves, for some reason. The man had an explosion of auburn curls framing his face. Name plaques sat haphazardly on top of monstrous towers of paper, identifying the woman as Lindsey and the man as Ray.

“What’s your business, pipsqueak?” Lindsey narrowed her eyes at him and took a drag.

“I-um, I’m 5’10,” Mikey stated, confused at the ‘pipsqueak’ labeling.

Lindsey narrowed her eyes. “I _ said, _ what’s your business, _ pipsqueak _?” He could feel sweat droplets forming on his neck.

“I have, uh, I have this, like, um, mission, ‘cause I’m in the, the, militia, and I, uh-”

“Can it! Come back when you can talk right,” Ray sneered.

“Or not at all,” Lindsey suggested.

“Yeah, I like that. Don’t bother coming back here at all. Take your pipe dream back to preschool, private.”

“Tell ‘em, Ray.”

“I’m tellin’ ‘em, Lindsey.”

“Good job, Ray.” They fist bumped, explosion noises and all.

“Oh, god, I’m, uh, I’m sorry, I…” Lindsey and Ray glared at him, then looked at each other. Mikey felt faint. His nightmares were coming true after all. He’d be kicked out of the military, he’d bring shame to his entire family, oh God, he forgot about his family, what would they think, he’d be a loser again, oh God-

His fearful spiral was interrupted by hoarse laughter from the two secretaries. They were doubled over, hysterical. Mikey’s head spun. After a few harrowing seconds of this, Lindsey managed to compose herself. “Oh, man, I’m sorry honey, what’re you here for?” Ray was still uncontrollably giggling in the corner.

“Uh…” Mikey was still trying to compose himself after the panic he had been subject to.

“Shit man,” Ray laughed, “We really fucked him up, didn’t we?” At this, Lindsey started laughing even more. “Look, I’m sorry, uh, what’s your name?”

“I… James. Er, Mikey. Or… yeah, Mikey.”

“Okay, Mikey,” Ray continued, “I’d just like to say that we… we… ” he broke out into hysterical laughter yet again.

“We never see people,” Lindsey explained, “Like, NEVER never. The last time we saw a new person was, like, back when Your Medicinal Platonic Relationship broke up.” Six years ago. These people had been trapped in the company of each other for six whole years. No wonder they were so weird.

“Didn’t they just get back together?” Mikey was utterly oblivious when it came to virtually everything important in the world, but as a strictly unimportant event in the grand scheme of things, YMPR’s reunion was something he made himself familiar with.

“See! I didn’t know that, because we never see anyone. Anyways, for the rare and wonderful times we are in the presence of another human being, we have to take advantage of it, you know?”

“Okay?” was Mikey’s response.

“What? It was funny. It was funny, right Ray?” Ray was still trying to compose himself, and largely failing.

“It was pretty funny,” he managed to choke out.

“Whatever,” Mikey said, “I just need my Mission Statement.” 

“Okay, okay, right. Where are those, Ray?”

“I’m flattered that you’d think I’d know.”

“Well you’re the only one here actually qualified for this job, so forgive me for assuming you’d be able to do it.”

“You know, maybe if you had been hired legally, you’d know where it was, and I wouldn’t have to do everything.”

“Ah, but wouldn’t that make this whole thing so much more boring if I weren’t technically a criminal?”

“I don’t think the word ‘technically’ is necessary in this situation. There isn’t much to debate when it comes to your status in the eyes of the Justice System.”

“You’re a secretary, not a lawyer, you can get off your high horse.”

“Well at least I’m actually a secretary.”

“Just because I became a secretary fraudulently doesn’t mean I’m any less of a secretary.”

“That’s literally the definition of fraudulence.”

“Oh, go back to secretary school.”

“That isn’t a thing!”

“Then why do I have a fake degree from it?”

“Because you’re a criminal!”

“Well I’m not the only one. You sold weed.”

“I was in high school!”

“Drugs are no joke, Ray. Not even once.”

“You’re high at this very moment.”

“Am not!” Lindsey poked Ray. Ray poked her back. They were delinquent children trapped in adult bodies.

Mikey cleared his throat.

“Ah yes, the runt,” Lindsey remembered. “He’s still here.”

“He’s taller than you,” Ray pointed out with a chuckle.

“Shut up, Toro. What was it you wanted again, sweetie?”

Mikey sighed. “A Mission Statement. I want a Mission Statement. My name is Sub-Lieutenant Michael James Way and I’ve been waiting all day for my Mission Statement, so if you could kindly grant me it I will be on my merry way.”

“Touchy subject I guess,” Lindsey mumbled. The sound of Ray’s laughter was a tedious sound to hear. It just meant that the process was going to take longer. The two of them began shuffling through the wall of file cabinets behind them, throwing papers on the ground like they weren’t important legal documents. “What does a Mission Statement look like?” Lindsey asked. Ray shrugged. Mikey rolled his eyes.

“So, Your Medicinal Platonic Friendship is getting back together, eh?” Ray yelled from behind a slab of wood that had no place in that room.

“Yep,” Mikey drawled.

“That’s pretty neat.” God, Mikey wanted to strangle the both of them. He could’ve been in and out of here in five minutes if they weren’t so unprofessional.

“Yep.”

“You ever seen them in concert?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither. Hopefully now we will now though, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’m really enjoying this conversation, Mikey. I really feel like I know you.”

“Yep.”

“I got it!” Lindsey shouted victoriously.

“Really?” Ray sounded surprised she was able to find it at all. Mikey felt like crying with relief. “How do you know it’s a Mission Statement?”

“Because it says, ‘Mission Statement; VME’ on the top in big bold letters.”  
“I think you found the Mission Statement.”  
“This is for the Voluntary Mission Explexa, right?” Lindsey asked Mikey.

“Yep,”

“Hah. I still got it, baby.”

“If by ‘it’ you mean hypertension.” Lindsey punched Ray in the shoulder. “Oww!”

She smiled sweetly at Mikey. “Here you go, dear.”

“Thank God,” he snatched the folder out of her hands and left before either of them could say another word to him.

He skimmed through the file on his way back to the base.The rundown of it was this; he was to take his crew to the planet Gevaar, a territory formerly controlled by the enemy but eradicated of all life months ago by Armenian radiation missiles. Radioactivity was now low enough to allow safe exploration of the area once more. The most important function it served was as a hospital of sorts for soldiers injured in battle. Mikey’s job was to recover the bodies left in the hospital for dissection.

It’d certainly give the new recruits a taste of how elegant life really was on the base. We need not get into the nitty-gritty details, but let me assure you that Mikey had built up quite a stomach from his service.

He had excited himself now, thinking about ordering around a bunch of wide-eyed newbies. He’d be the ultimate authority, practically a prophet to the new soldiers. Or, at least he hoped he would be. In reality, he didn’t have any idea how his crew would react to him. He hoped he’d get their respect without too much trouble, but some of the first years were hardcore. They might think him weak, or unworthy. God, how humiliating would that be? Being outperformed by a lower rank was not an option in anyone’s mind. If it was, why were you here?

No, he told himself, you are not going down a nervous rabbit hole. It helps nothing. He had to focus on the mission. It was a piece of cake, really, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t massive preparation to do. He couldn’t afford any distractions. _ You are powerful, _ he told himself, _ You are the best of the best. This is but a blip in your long and fabulous career as a Space Cadet _. He repeated the same sentiments over and over in his head until he was sure he believed them. A person’s greatest weakness is never their lack of power; it’s their perception of their lack of power. If you let your doubts consume you, they will inevitably come to fruition. Likewise, if you use your doubts to your advantage, planning and preparing so vigorously that you have no more reason to fear, you will most certainly emerge victorious. The biggest lesson taught in battle school is that your greatest asset is a grip on your mind.

He returned with confidence and anticipation for the days to come.

At dinner, Otto wouldn’t stop interrogating him. The second he sat at the table, he was bombarded with questions.

“So what’s the mission?”

“We gotta get some alien corpses from a hospital.”

“When are you leaving?”

“0900 hours on Thursday.”

“How big is your crew?”

“I got fifteen people.”

“How long’s it gonna take?”

“We’ll take an hour and a half to get there, spend six hours chucking bodies in the trunk, hour and a half back.”

“Are you scared?”

“Not really.”

“What if you die?”

“I’d love it if you could get Juliano’s chocolate cake to my memorial service.”

“Who’s in your crew?”

“I won’t know ‘til the day of.”

“Who do you hope is in your crew?”

“I don’t know any of the recruits.”

“Not even Jason?”

“No, not even Jason.”

“What about Yvette?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Percy?”

“Nope.”

“Hawa?”

“Nope.”

“Krishna?”

“No.”

“Oh my god Otto, shut your pie-fucking-hole!” Awsten yelled from across the table.

“Language young man!” Otto shrieked back.

“You’re mother’s a tomato!”

“Your father thinks I’m a gentleman in bed!”

“Your cow thinks you’re ugly.”

“You look like a kitchen appliance.”

Mikey stopped listening after that. It was a lost cause to attempt to comprehend the things Awsten and Otto shouted at each other. He was pretty sure they didn’t know what they were saying either. And yet, they persisted.

He started talking to Spencer, who was probably his favorite to hang out with besides Awsten, ‘cause he wasn’t a car crash waiting to happen like the rest of them. Spencer had started training some of the first years a few months ago, and he was running through all the significant ones. “Yeah, definitely watch out for Naia if you get her, she will sink her teeth into a man without a second’s thought.”

“Noted.”

“Honestly, they’re all pretty good kids, just a little misguided at times.”

“Okay, that’s sweet and all, but be honest with me; who’s the one I really gotta watch out for? Who’s the cold-blooded one of the bunch?”

Spencer frowned. “I’d like to say I have to think about this one, but I don’t.”

“Tell me.”

“His name’s Robert McCracken. First time I had him, he hacked into the base’s firewall and somehow managed to make everyone’s radios recite one of the lewdest, disgustingly erotic passages I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing.”

“Charming.”

“That’s not the worst of it. He broke Sergeant Daniel’s left kneecap with a pipe he ripped from the wall in some other kid’s dorm.”

“He broke Elijah? I didn’t think there was a soul alive unafraid of that man.”

“I’m tellin’ ya, he’s something else.”

“Indeed.”

“How has he not been kicked out already?”

“He’s real sneaky. All this stuff is technically ‘alleged’. There’s no proof for any of it.”

“Not even the whole breaking of kneecaps?”  
“Like I said, he took the pipe from another guy’s room, and there’s no security footage of it. It’s just Daniel’s word, which everybody knows is rock solid, but it’s not enough.”

Above them, there was a piercing buzz. Time to go. “Let us pray Private Robbie stays far from my ship.”

“Amen.”

Mikey was excused from classes until he came back from Gevaar. The mission was tomorrow morning. It was the home stretch. He met with the Chemical Adviser to go through the precautions and risks associated with radiation contact, however small. There was a specific room on the ship with vacuum sealed doors to keep the bodies in. If anyone became nauseous, dizzy, feverish, etc., they were to be quarantined from the work immediately. Whenever inside the hospital, Mikey and the crew were required to wear oxygen masks. He was given a very instructive PowerPoint on radioactive substances and what they can do to your body as well. Very enlightening. Convinced him that life was miserable. He toured the ship, got to know it intimately, named it Arwen. Felt a little less like life was miserable. Read the Mission Statement again, fell asleep halfway through, got woken up by Jamia and forced into his dorm where he resumed his sleep without hesitation. Dreamed that his crew left him all alone on the faraway planet and a giant locust ate him. Woke up and was relieved to remember that giant locusts didn’t exist. Went back to sleep.

By the time the next morning came, he felt wholly ready for the day to come. He came to the Main Garage an hour early to get some time to himself before meeting the crew. He felt like he could take a breath for the first time in weeks. Everything was taken care of, everything was in order, and all that was left was to actually go on the mission, ironically the easiest part of the whole process. It’d take less than a day, and then he’d be able to check his first manned mission off the figurative checklist. It was the first and most crucial step to becoming an officer, and he was _ this _close. It was unreal. He was probably delirious from poor sleep, but he didn’t care. He felt like flying. It was all real, and it was all happening. He thought that that must be how it feels to be high, not that he’d know because nonprescription drugs were strictly forbidden in the militia. Point is, he was on top of the damn world. He thought that absolutely nothing could go wrong.

This was, of course, just foreshadowing. 


	3. From Another Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, who was that?

His crew made quite the impression. He could hear the rowdy shrieks of the young soldiers ricocheting off the tin walls of the hangar’s attached corridor from miles away. Unfortunately, he knew exactly what he was in for. These young, first-year soldiers were all the same. Apathetic, insubordinate, violent, and probably worst of all, _ excited _. It made him sick. No one who’s been faced with the duty of eliminating another intelligent being was ever enthusiastic about the job. This was not a career for laughers and smilers. They’d learn soon enough. Almost a third of every entering class quit within the first year, usually after they’ve had to blast the brains out of some alien for the first time. They always expected purple tentacles and big black doll eyes for some reason, but the Onheil were actually alarmingly human-like.

Really though, the biggest problem with a lot of these recruits was that they thought they were special. They joined for the glory of saving the universe, to be remembered for centuries to come as a hero. Mikey had a theory that the primary incentive of the Private Program was not actually to get recruits ready for battle, but to crush the dreams of anyone who thought this would be glamorous. That’s what he planned to do, anyway.

He could already tell how this mission was gonna go. There’d be all the cocky kids trying to walk in front of him, grilling him on useless trivia to prove to themselves just how intelligent they are. These would be the same kids who, ten minutes later, would piss their pants when asked to actually do something useful and put a blaster to some creature’s head. It was annoying, but it was also easy. They thought they were all that, but Mikey knew that whatever these guys could cook up, he’d seen worse.

Fifteen young-adult delinquents sauntered into the hangar, and as Mikey’s eyes drifted over the strangers’ faces, he happened to catch the eye of someone not so strange, and all the color promptly drained from his face. A surge of angry adrenaline shot through him in the midst of his confusion and awe, making the very purposeful authoritative look he had generated all but crumble away.

Gerard had hardly changed in the upwards of three years since Mikey had last seen him. He’d lost some weight, grown some stubble, and looked a bit more sickly than he remembered, but there was no mistaking him. Mikey’s stomach took a turn at the sight of his slick, shoulder-length darkened hair hanging limply over his face. He had not grown out of his habit of preferring a walk across hot coals to a fucking shower, apparently. The dirty mop was practically dripping with oily sweat, sticking to him like some sort of insect feeding off the calcium in his skull. A filthy, stained black sweater was draped over him, about three sizes too big and frayed at every hem. God, he was a mess. Mikey couldn’t even feel shocked at the sight of his kid brother standing in the ship hangar of the US Intergalactic Militia’s military base, he was just disgusted. Why did he look like he shot heroin with Death Himself?

“Gerard,” he proclaimed, “what the fuck?”

The chatter swelling up the room came to an abrupt halt. Heads turned to the man under the Lieutenant’s questioning glare. His little brother seemed to notice him for the first time, eyes widening and then brows furrowing. His mouth hung open as if he were trying to catch flies. A shaky hand reached up to claw a clump of hair out of his eyes. A rush of blood to his face seemed to wake his thoughts out of their momentary lapse. His lips spread into a whimsy grin. “Mikeyyy…” he slurred, his voice unusually high, “I’ve been lookin’ for ya, bitch!”

No. Something was wrong. His eyes were too bright, mouth too lazy, teeth too stained. The veins on his neck stuck out like vines climbing up his skin.

Mikey narrowed his eyes at his brother. “_ Come with me _,” he snapped. He sped stiffly to the nearest corridor to begin his interrogation. He heard his brother stumbling behind him and scowled to himself. Something was very wrong.

He gave himself just about a minute to compose himself in the empty hall leading out of the hangar before exploding at Gerard. He already knew this version of his former best friend was not the same one he left, not by a long shot. When he looked into his eyes just seconds ago, there was nothing he recognized. Whatever he thought he knew about him was thrown away the second he was faced with it. Mikey couldn’t think about it too much, or he knew he wouldn’t be able to be in the same room as the guy, much less man a whole mission with him in his crew. 

He heard lilting giggles come around the corner and braced himself. Accompanying this singsong snickers was Gerard, who was also accompanied by another man being dragged behind him. This man had the same shitfaced grin on his face as Gerard. He had the same shuddering giggles escaping him and the same greasy mop on his head, albeit with red streaks through it. Sunken eyes and stubbled cheeks, thin lips and a creased brow came with this man, but they were if anything secondary features to the air of hopelessness that radiated from him, poisoning his surroundings. Mikey felt electricity surge through him. He wondered. Was this man the reason for his brother’s diminishing? Had Gerard breathed in the noxious despairing fumes and fell victim to them? He didn’t want to blame his brother for his downfall, and this man, whoever he was, provided him with a reason not to.

“Hey, Mikey!” Gerard waved at him. Mikey frowned. Gerard continued without noticing. “This,” he gestured towards the man with him, “is Bert.”

_ Keep your temper, _Mikey reminded himself. “That’s great, but what’s he doing here?”

Gerard looked offended. “He’s my best friend, _ Michael. _”

Mikey scoffed.

Bert threw his hands in the air. “I’m the coolest motherfucker on the planet!” Gerard nodded in response as one would in the presence of a wise shaman.

“Okay. Gerard, Bert, I’m only gonna ask you guys this once. What are you on?” Nevermind why Gerard was here in the first place, or who in god’s name Bert was. It was becoming increasingly clear that Mikey’s initial suspicion that blood was not the only thing coursing through their veins was very correct.  
Bert jabbed a finger into Mikey’s shoulder. “_That _is an excellent question, good sir. A most fascinating prompt, I must say. You see, there is no easy ans-”

“RAVIM NARKOPOISID!” His brother hooted. Bert cackled.

Shit.

Shit.

SHIT. 

Mikey, unfortunately, knew exactly what that meant.

Ravim fucked up all your shit. Everything. There was nothing else quite like it, at least not to Mikey’s limited knowledge. It could make you vomit, bloat, hallucinate, blister, overheat, freeze, starve, peel, break, splinter, sob, dehydrate, herniate, scream, and who knows what else, and didn’t stop until you were either dead or wishing to be. It spread like wildfire over the base a few years ago, and since then the blaze hasn’t gotten anything but stronger. If it weren’t for every authority figure in this place trying desperately to keep it under wraps, it’d probably be classified as an epidemic. Ask anyone in any Earth-backed military housing, anyone in the galaxy, and they’d tell you. There wasn’t an intergalactic soldier alive who didn’t know someone ravaged by Ravim, or had been ravaged by it themselves. It was a grisly reminder to everyone that as much as the governing bodies of Earth liked to claim they had total control over extraterrestrial affairs, they were, frankly, bitch ass liars. 

All the junkies who shot up pixie dust instead of sleeping even had this pathetic chant they used to signal to each other that they, too, had a yearning for violent self-destruction.

_ Ravim narkopoisid! _ They’d shout in orgasmic delight, _ Ravim narkopoisid! _

The ones hooked real bad were usually too high to pronounce such a word, and you’d end up hearing hellish shrieks of _ Ravim...narkoo...poss...uh...oiadid!! _ Before a heavy thud found the perp seizing on the ground.

Knowing all this, Mikey felt no shame in feeling nothing less than horrified by Gerard’s ghastly confession. His face flushed in abject rage. “Fuck!” he cried.

Gerard grabbed his hand. “It’s okay, Mikey,” he assured him, “I’m ready for the mission.”

Mikey shoved him away. “You are most certainly not.”

Gerard, severely lacking in his sense of balance, tumbled to the ground. “Oh, I forgot!” he shouted from the floor, “I’m mad at you!”

“_ You’re _ mad at _ me _?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m mad at you too,” Bert chimed in.

“I’ve never met you,” Mikey reminded him.

“I _ know _ things.”

“I told him all about your silly tricks!” Gerard proclaimed, still spread-eagled and horizontal.

That was it. Mikey had had enough of his brother’s bullshit. “You know what, I don’t even care, I’m calling security. I have a mission to man, and you two are gonna get yourselves killed.”

“NO!” Bert squawked.

“Bert! Take my hand! We’re not goin’ down without a FIGHT!” Gerard rasped. Bert collapsed on the ground on top of Gerard.

“You’ll never take us alive, motherfuckers!”

“You smell bad!” Gerard scolded his friend.

“I smell delicious!”

Gerard pulled Bert’s hair. Bert pinched Gerard’s nose. Gerard bit Bert’s finger. And so on, and so on.

Meanwhile, Mikey was waiting for someone to pick up the damn comm. He felt like a miserable housewife waiting for the babysitter to come so she could just fuck her husband already. The only difference was that instead of wanting to fuck his husband, he wanted to recover alien corpses from a strange foreign planet. In fact, he’d been working for this so long, he’d probably give up the opportunity to have a husband to fuck in the first place in order to go on this mission, if prompted. He could fuck his hypothetical husband many times in their hypothetical marriage, but manning the Explexa was a once-in-a-lifetime gig given to only the most promising of soldiers. Back on topic though, he had absolutely no clue what he was supposed to do. It’s not like he had always dreamed of traveling all the way to another solar system just to nurse some junkies’ hangover. Where was the honor and adventure he was promised in all that militia propaganda shoved in his face all his life? He was not under any illusion that being a soldier was all rainbows and kittens, but he at least expected more than this.

Gerard and Bert had begun to snore with alarming volume. Mikey’s fury grew exponentially. He stood there restlessly, pacing, tapping his foot, humming, anything to stop the ceaseless drone of minutes passing. He was seriously considering just leaving the two delinquents passed out before him to rot. What else was there to do? He could cancel the mission, but he refused to even consider it. Gerard had already fucked up his own life enough, Mikey wasn’t about to let his brother drag him down with him. He had been waiting for this day for years. It would take a nuclear meltdown to defer him from his assignment.

He let the idea of bringing them with ruminate in his mind. Obviously, he couldn’t let them handle any of the actual mission work, who knows what kind of shit two trashed soldiers could do with dead bodies in their hands? Maybe he could leave them on the ship, though. Considering the fact that they could barely stand at the moment, he wasn’t too worried about them breaking into the cockpit and flying off. They weren’t that smart under the influence. In all likelihood, they’d just roll on the floor giggling the whole time until the high wore off, which could be anywhere from a few hours to a few days depending on how much they took. There wasn’t much they could stick their dicks in on the ship, everything was pretty locked down. It might actually work.

Huh. It might actually work. The idea was simultaneously shocking, delightful, and horrifying. He might get in trouble for it, but when the lack of response to the comm requests were taken into account, it really did seem like the most responsible solution. Besides, when Ravim was involved, people went to great lengths to keep it from becoming big news. He might just get away with it. Mikey was practically giddy at the thought. The Explexa was everything he’d been working towards since he got to the base, and now he was there. He had made it. Nothing and no one was going to ruin this for him. Not even Gerard, inebriated as he was.

“Guys,” he kicked at the pile of limbs before him, “Get up. We’re leaving.”

He heard a groan from Bert, weakly lumbering up into a standing position. “Gerard is mad at you,” he reminded Mikey.

“Yes, I know. It’s time to get on the ship. _ Gerard, _ wake up.”

Bert stepped in front of Mikey, close enough for Mikey to smell his rancid breath. “You left him.”

Mikey’s eyes watered at Bert’s stench. He pushed him back a few inches so he could pay attention to something else. “What was that?”

Bert cleared his throat, speaking louder and enunciating every syllable very carefully, as if Mikey were a toddler. “You left him all alone. One day, with no warning. You left, and you never came back.”

So Gerard had indulged their entire unfortunate tale to him, apparently. “Oh, whatever. Gerard was there the day I left. He was fine with it.”

Bert plopped back down onto the floor, crossing his legs like he was in his kindergarten classroom. “He told me about it.”

“Did he now?” Mikey entertained while poking at Gerard.

“Yeah. You’re wrong.”

Mikey looked at Bert. He was still high as a kite, but he didn’t look like he was lying. Then again, he didn’t know Bert. He could be a pathological liar. He could be the kind of guy that likes to put others into emotional distress. He could be someone that broke his teacher’s kneecaps with a pipe.

That’s when it hit him. He nearly did a double-take. “Er- what did you say your last name was, Bert?”

“McCracken,” he said sadly.

Of course. Mikey’s little brother, out of all the people in the world he could’ve befriended, chose none other than the infamous Robert McCracken.

How fabulous.

He eventually managed to get everybody on the ship unscathed, a discouragingly difficult victory to achieve. He could only hope the rest of the mission would run smoothly, slim as those odds were. He left Bert and Gerard under the supervision of a soldier on his crew named Carlson who looked capable enough to break up a fight between the two. He didn’t tell him much, just that they were feeling under the weather, but he could see the fear and suspicion building up inside the kid. He felt bad about dumping his burden on a private, but he couldn’t think up a better solution, and they were already running behind. Gerard was still fast asleep, Mikey had to carry him into his seat, and Bert was being all sulky now, so if all went well they wouldn’t be any trouble at all.

His co-pilot was a woman he had never met by the name of Blythe, who launched the ship without so much as a hello, switched to autopilot, and fell asleep, leaving Mikey with nothing but his own jumbled thoughts. It was all the same to him, as he hadn’t planned on saying a word to her anyway.

Without any distractions, his mind went running. To think, he had felt so confident this morning. He was so sure this day would go right, he thought he had planned for everything. That was, of course, until his brother, who he hadn’t seen in three years, had decided to show up out of the blue deliriously high. The weight of all of it began to settle into him. The Gerard he left back home was not the same as the one he was presented with that morning. The Gerard he knew lived in a basement, spent hours a day on drawings the world would never see, and only spoke when he felt he had no other choice. He was shyly adventurous. He’d been much farther into the galaxy than Mikey, but every time he came back from these strange planets, all he had to show for it was scribbled sketches of craters and sand dunes. All the photos they had of antigravity parks and bullet subs did not feature Gerard. He did nothing but sit and scrutinize the things around him, whether it was from a grimy couch on Earth or a plexiglass dome on Saturn. He hardly talked except to Mikey.

What had changed? How had this new man come about? Was it merely the drugs, or was Ravim just a side effect of a bigger picture? He couldn’t say. All he could really think was that it was his fault. He left his little brother on a whim, barely even said goodbye, never attempted to keep in touch. Gerard had sent him letters, dozens of them, but Mikey never had the heart to write back. He wanted to leave all his Earthly life behind, and that included his family. This now struck him as a grave mistake. Gerard had obviously needed him, and he couldn’t do even the bare minimum of showing up. In truth, he was even more of a screw-up than his junkie brother. How sad was that? He had been preaching honor and loyalty to Earth for almost four years now, but he was quite possibly one of the worst examples of ‘honor’ and ‘loyalty’ that existed. He was willing to abandon his entire family without a moment’s hesitation. Oh my god. He was a fucking monster.

It was the first time he had ever felt any sort of remorse over what he had done. He knew he was hated by all his relatives, but up until now they were all millions of miles away. Out of sight, out of mind. He had fooled himself into thinking that it wasn’t that big of a deal. It was, it turns out, a huge deal. One of the hugest. It was the kind of situation that would never be truly resolved. At best, everyone would apologize, Mikey would come home, and everyone would avoid talking about it at holidays, trying and failing to keep their eyes from darting towards the man that had betrayed them. At worst, Gerard would walk in right now with a switchblade and end it all for him along with his little rascal friend he had picked up along the way.


End file.
